Midas Magazine NOSTALGIA: Vol. 3, Issue 1

MIDAS magazine

made by students at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte

MIDAS

magazine presents:

2008 has never been more alive than 2022. I see it everywhere I go, from factory-line production of Disney remakes to tours reuniting the discontinued early-aughts bands to mediocre attempts to revive childhood shows (looking at you Winx Club). What’s in right now is what’s been out for years, lest we forget sparkly barrettes, Silly Bandz, and the light-up Wheelies shoes. Nostalgia is in, and Gen-Z in particular seems to be relishing in its’ spotlight. While nostalgia seems to be driving the cultural zeitgeist now, for most of its existence it was used to categorize mania within homesickness. The 18th-century Swiss physician who coined the term drew nostos, a Greek term for “coming home” or “homecoming” to algos or “pain”.

So why is it that we cherish a painful phenomenon? Sentimentality, longing, and wistfulness are all such illogical emotions— why bother to look back at all? And why us?

These questions were the driving force for the staff, myself included when we decided to focus on nostalgia for Midas’s Fall 2022 issue. I had so long wondered, why a generation so future-oriented as Gen-Z, so hungry for change, would crave the flavors of our childhood. Yes, the Ring pops and Chuck-E-Cheese visits were fun, but the relentless insecurities, conflicting identities, family issues, craving acceptance, and the all-too-familiar desire to appear effortlessly cool. It was important here at Midas that we remembered that, as a nod to those who didn’t get the cherry-on-top childhood that many of us did, but also to remember nostalgia for what it truly is.

Nostos is an easy feeling to understand—we all crave comfort and familiarity—but algos was new for me. I could never fully understand it until I found myself taking the Amtrak back home from college for the first time. The town that had felt so inescapable was nothing more than a footnote in passing; the park where I first got hives, the mall my friends and I spent many post-school afternoons in, the shortcut to Whole Foods from school, the beloved tetherball from elementary—all of it that took so long to live, was now too brief to remember.

I can’t answer what nostalgia means for every reader- nor can this issue, but we hope to represent the different narratives nostalgia evokes from our staff. The 72 pages of this issue are compiled with callbacks to inner childhood memories, paying homage to the fashion influences of our toys, exploring the future (with a shout-out from the past), understanding how memory is intrinsically tied to music, cherishing older forms of photography and remembering that feeling of coming home when it begins to get dark. Coming home has never felt quite so right as between the pages of Midas.

Thank you to the Midas staff for their relentless efforts: to our writers for not balking and abandoning ship at our tight deadlines, to the photographers for trusting their visions with us, for the promotions team for their ingenuity, the designers for their flexibility and dedication. I’d like to shout out to Midas’ directorial staff: Christa, Arin, Sanura and Claire—thank you for your insane talents, our many hours in the office and making this issue possible.

Scrolling through my playlist on my phone, I find myself lost in a world of music that takes me back to when I first discovered it. When female-oriented rap was coming out of its drought period, groups like Mindless Behavior or the Spice Girls dominated the charts. Listening to these songs today hits my chest with nostalgia and a deep sense of sadness; reminiscing about how we will never relive moments that are in the past and how our futures are constantly changing. But, as I sit and think about middle school dances and a prom I didn’t get to go to, I realize that those moments we as people go through become memories for our future selves, like tiny golden coins we keep in a chest buried in the ground to be dug up years later.

In our office in the basement of the student union, Krishma (our freaking amazing Editorin-Chief ) and I would laugh and reminisce about moments in our past that we had locked away. This issue’s main theme is nostalgia, but not just about our past—also how it affects us as adults now and in the future. We wanted this issue to show how these key moments built the world. I remember sitting down with Claire (our founder and previous Editor-in-Chief) and Krishma under the hot sun in the Spring to talk about initial ideas for this magazine. I got to see the ideas go from thoughts and (maybe ambitious)

talk at the time to fully executed written pieces, photoshoots, and design, no longer just notes on paper. The process brings so much joy to my heart!

The countless thanks and priceless memories from the people we worked with this semester has shown how special it is when we bring so many people together.

In college we’re so focused on what comes after that we hardly get the chance to think and appreciate what got us here. Some of the best moments for me hapened throughout the semester, when our shoebox of an office would be full to bursting with the Midas staff and we would ignore our work and worries to talk about moments in life that we hold dear to our hearts.

So while people walk around campus with our (very well designed, with amazing topics and killer photography) magazine, we want to remind our generation about the hopes and dreams we had as kids. They were not silly little ideas and thoughtless talks, but ambitions that shape the future.

the nost algia issue

SANURA EZEAGU, MANAGING EDITOR

Inner Child

Written by Jasmine Palacios Photographed by Wendy Hernandez Lopez Modeled by Carissa Bermudez Designed by Aily Valencia Cervantes

D e n y i n o u r tueselves i s denyin ou r b e s s e l v e s ”

“

“Lookhowallthekidshavegrown,Wehave changedbutwe’restillthesame.” The lyrics to “Cool” by Gwen Stefani softly played in the dim bedroom backdrop. My old broken Samsung Galaxy Note phone is fighting for its life, the battery dying every 10 seconds. I’m enthralled by the big font sizes of old messages from past friends, unread school emails, and grainy, fuzzy old pictures from my middle and high school days. A rush of nostalgia hits me. I wasn’t paying attention to the time, my mind was stuck to the memories, hanging by a thread in the present. I was sitting on the floor of my room, hunched over the old phones, spitting out a cherry stem as soon as I snapped out of my trip-down-memory-lane headspace. For a moment, my surroundings did not feel real as I was reminiscing and reliving memories.

Still sprawled out in my bedroom, I stare at the white wall, taking a few moments to detach myself from that period. Looking back on old memories allows me to see how different my current self is from my past self.

This feeling of nostalgia is something echoing in our generation—a longing to return to our adolescence. This is reflected in the resurfacing of trends of the 1990s and 2000s— such as taking photos with polaroids, playing music from the vintage record player, Low-rise jeans, and so on. But what is the source of this underlying nostalgia that we now feel as young adults? As children, and later in our early adolescence, we must choose between being ourselves—our inner child—and conforming to the expectations of society. As young adults,

we not only have more independence, but we also live in a more accepting generation than the one we grew up in. The ability to be ourselves—our “inner child”—as young adults evokes feelings of nostalgia.

In primary school, my teachers, in particular, told me that I should not play soccer with the boys because of the outdated view of girls not needing to engage in rowdy behavior. I remember feeling discouraged to play soccer, despite support from my father and coach, because of societal expectations around me. Girls who were “too harsh” were labeled “tomboyish” and “unruly.” Later, in my early teens, playing with the boys in soccer, I felt pressured to conform to their restrictions, to demonstrate that I was “one of them” and didn’t stand out. Although I liked the color pink, I remember not embracing it because I wanted to avoid appearing overly feminine. Nonetheless, I was able to find the determination to keep playing despite this, many of my friends were discouraged from pursuing soccer because of expectations regarding “how girls should act.” Even though I found coloring books to be therapeutic and relaxing, I didn’t participate with them directly because I didn’t want to appear “frivolous” or, worse, “infantile” as a teenager.

As we reconnect with our inner child by doing what we wanted to do, but didn’t have the chance to in our younger years, we are changing societal expectations by populazring spaces to engage in our passions. In my teen years, I joined the girl’s soccer team and was able to play soccer with support from coaches who were progressive and were not afraid to integrate both boys and girls to regularly play soccer together during soccer practice.

When I was younger, adults simply viewed me and my friends as being carefree and “unruly.” I played soccer with my friends in my muddy shoes, with patches of mud on my knees, and in my wrinkled shirt which had been tugged to try and pry me away from the chance to get the ball. To adults, it was not seen as proper, especially for a girl. Society’s expectation of the meaning of a “proper” girl restricted me from fully immersing myself in soccer. From playing soccer with my friends in primary school to later in my teens playing in the girls’ soccer team learning tactics and skills from coaches that were used with boy’s football and boy’s soccer team made me feel nostalgic because I was not able to fully embrace my inner child at the beginning, yet I was ultimately able to play soccer with my friends without negative expectations dawning on me. What’s better than finding a shared commonality that helps us connect,embrace how we identify ourselves or what can benefit us throughout our lives? Reuniting with our inner child helps us grow and flourish; allowing us to know and understand ourselves better. It’s essential to reconnect with our inner child because it gives us a chance to reconcile with a missing part of ourselves that we have repressed over the years. Embrace and attune to your inner child: join and partake in organizations that speak to you, reconnecting with your roots, or helping within your community.

I remember moving into my dorm as a freshman and being awed by the RAs who would host coloring book sessions with peers from my floor with ice cream. Even official events hosted by Campus Activity Board such as painting sessions and water balloon games brought about new friendships and a sense of nostalgia.

It feels bittersweet to indulge in childhood interests as adults, as if we needed to trade our youthful innocence for adult independence. The sunlight glistened over the sky. I wanted to keep holding on to the remainder of the day’s light- wishing for it not to be gone just yet. My eyes are crinkling with wet grass and earthy musk lingering in the air. I wanted to stay like that, my hand hovering over my face, feeling the warmth from my skin, the breeze weaving through my hair. It was liberating to dance with the leaves rustling in the draft, the chilly wind and rain-soaked ground running faster than the distant flash of lightning in the sky. If I were to dance now with the swaying trees in the middle of campus, I would be seen as childlike.

“Embrace to your

and attune inner child”

As we enter adulthood, our newly-gained independence allows us to reconnect with our inner child by indulging in our childhood interests. My old phone allows me to relive my memories from childhood and early adulthood. The old messages from friends, online mental health blogs, and meditation apps are just one of the few platforms that I often used to grow within my safe space. Living in a more accepting generation allows us to now do what we aways wanted to do with our inner child, allowing us to grow and flourish into our best selves. Denying our true selves is denying our best selves.

flourish flourish flourish

reuniti n with our inner child helps us grow and

DON’T BE A STRANGER. DON’T BE A STRANGER.

WRITTEN BY RUBY CHAMBERS DESIGNED BY SOPHIA PARK

Do you remember the final days of your childhood? The morning you woke up feeling, for the first time, independent? Can you pinpoint your “coming-of-age” to the minute? In a memoir published posthumously, renowned pop-artist Andy Warhol proclaimed, “Life while it’s happening to you never has any atmosphere until it’s a memory.” Unable to mark abstract milestones on a timeline, we conceptualize them in episodes, like a television series. Each episode is represented by a distinct sensory atmosphere captured in its memorization. So the question evolves: What comprises the atmospheres of our memories?

For a starting point, the line from The Glass Menagerie, a memory play, will do nicely. If you’re anything like me, you’ll go to great lengths to have music playing in your ears at all times. Gen-Z’s unique relationship with music is due in part to the wide accessibility of streaming platforms such as Spotify, Apple Music, and SoundCloud. Provided with a vast range of genres and artists, we can make playlists in seconds that align with our emotional states, the seasons, or the time of day. Not only that but the production and marketing of our music are effortless in comparison to past generations. Headphones and portable speakers make listening simpler than ever. We allow music to enhance and inform our moods, help us cope with and regulate emotions, and bond us with important people and places. Music is ubiquitous and inseparable from our lives, and, thereby, our memories.

A study conducted by Petr Janata in 2007 examined the relationship between music and our autobiographical memory. College-student participants heard excerpts of songs selected from Billboard’s Top 100 Pop and R&B lists, after each completing a short questionnaire concerning their familiarity with and emotional response to what they heard. Common responses included accounts of specific memories of dancing, driving, and personal relationships, as well as general references to life-narrative episodes. The more positive the emotions associated with a memory, the more vividly it can be recalled. Other studies provide a foundation for implementing music therapy to treat Alzheimer’s disease, dementia, and other conditions resulting in memory loss (Cuddy et al.). The research is consistent: music can aid in retrieving both episodic and event-specific autobiographical memories.

“In memory, everything seems to hap

“In memory, everything seems to happen to

“In memory, everything seems to happen tomusic“

“In memory, ev

“In memory, everything s

“In memory, everything seems to happen to music.”

The preliminary stages of this essay consisted of years’ worth of conversations with friends about the emotional night of music from our childhoods. I finally decided to follow the white rabbit, spending weeks in the depths of my Spotify account listening to my favorite albums from my early teens.

Fiona Apple’s Tidal (1996), Anderson.Paak’s Oxnard (2018) and Paul McCartney’s Ram (1971), among others. Between the realization, I still know the lyrics of every track, the unadulterated grin spreading across my face at that

On the heels of my recall arose an ache that settled somewhere benign on the spectrum between peace and regret. As the chorus of “Trippy” (Anderson .Paak feat. J. Cole) cycled through the second time, a soft voice singing, “You and I will always be…somewhere in between…”

I placed the bittersweet pang: nostalgia.

Before the second half of the 20th century, the phenomenon of nostalgia was perceived as dysfunctional. In a 1688 paper, the Swiss physician Johannes

associated with childhood and youth and ushers forth feelings of safety and happiness. We fall back on nostalgia in transitory periods, which are more frequent in young adulthood, meditating on our recent adolescence for comfort in times of turbulence.

Music serves as a catalyst for potent nostalgia that helps us self-identify. It is no wonder, relistening to the albums of my past, I felt the concerns of the present lifted by youthful energy as memories flooded out from the recesses. But I am

chorus I always loved, and the enchanting memories of summers and ancient friendships bubbling to the surface and flourishing in my mind’s eye, the experience was euphoric. Suddenly, the stressors of the present moment–homework assignments, highway driving, speedwalking to class–melted away, and I was fifteen again, singing and dancing to the songs that crystallize the years I spent coming of age.

Hofer named what he believed a “disease” after the Greek words nosos, meaning “return to the native land,” and algos, meaning “suffering or grief.”

The fatal transgression of his conclusions dwells in the title of his paper: “Medical Dissertation on Nostalgia, or Homesickness”. Modern studies, such as those discussed by Fred Davis in Contemporary Sociology, suggest that rather than homesickness, nostalgic ideation is more commonly

not alone in this feeling. I spoke with some UNCC students about how music has shaped their memories. Smiling, they recalled influential artists, albums, songs, and genres from their pasts. Whether it was Daniel Caesar or One Direction, Seattle grunge, or musical theater, they seemed to light up as they remembered their old playlists. Their sudden animation was contagious. I felt honored as they recounted to me the personal memories

“I was fifteen again, singing and dancing to the songs that crystallize the years I spent coming of age.”

“AND IF IT’S A

that these songs and artists summoned for them.

Sophomore Rob Chafer remembers Nirvana and Billy Joel from middle school in his hometown. “The train to New York City from Long Island…I had my iPod, and I’d listen to those songs on the weekends as I rode into the city.” He told me he’ll intersperse the old stuff with his current playlists, and doesn’t worry about it getting old. Through our conversation, we came to realize that as we pass the years of listening to the same songs, our experiences of their compound. Every new memory we make with the song adds to it a kind of energy, a charge. “I still get the hype–the feeling I get from a lot of this music doesn’t go away, it stays with me.”

For freshman Aryana Figueroa, it’s always been Stevie Wonder’s soulful ballad “All in Love is Fair.” A lifelong singer and musician, she remembers listening to the song in the car with her mom. “When I was four years old I would look out the window during that song specifically. She would see me in the mirror

and I was thinking…that song, to this day, brings back that memory.” We discussed the intensity of musical nostalgia, agreeing it can be gut-wrenching. “In a way, it’s kind of painful to be emotionally attached…it can be difficult to revisit the happy places. But I go back into those experiences and submerge myself in them.” She recently did just that, covering the song from Innervisions on her Instagram account @musicbyary.

And when I was little we would go to these pujas in high schools. We’d go to the stairwells and sing with our friend Anushna. It was echoing…”

ILLUSION, I DON’T WANT TO WAKE UP.

I’M GONNA HANG ONTO IT. BECAUSE THE ALTERNATIVE IS AN ABYSS, IS JUST A HOLE, A DARKNESS, A NOTHINGNESS… WHO WANTS THAT?”

“You know when you’re little, and it’s cold, and you’re wearing a jacket, but you don’t want to zip it up? I have a playlist based on that.” In fact, junior Oishii Basu has a playlist for just about everything. She often revisits the music that reminds her of friends and experiences from before she moved out of town for school. “I hold a lot of very specific memories in music. I’ll be able to say this song was playing when this happened.” She raves in particular about Ingrid Michaelson, whose understated vocals she says unearth a treasure trove of sentimentality. “I got Ingrid Michaelson from my friend Roumi. She’s a singer–she’s always singing.

I was delighted to hear that the students I spoke with frequently revisit the music that is nostalgic to them. It brings them comfort, reminding them of the people and places so fundamental to their coming-of-age. And unlike places and people, music isn’t going anywhere. It’s always at our fingertips, there when we need a friend, a mom, a good cry, or a dance party. Don’t be a stranger.

“Andifit’sanillusion,Idon’t wanttowakeup.I’mgonna hangontoit.Becausethe alternativeisanabyss,isjust ahole,adarkness,anothingness…Who wants that?”

“20Something”bySZA

Don’t be a stranger.

THE ORIGINAL INFLUENCERS:

Barbie, Bratz, and Monser High

Being the categorical creatures that we are, humans often identify themselves based on professions, hobbies, sports, or fashion styling, often known as aesthetics. Apps such Pinterest and TikTok have popularized the concept of fashion asceticism. From April 2021 to late summer of 2021, one fashion trend was rapidly growing on TikTok. Users attempted to determine if they were a ‘Barbie,’ ‘Bratz,’ or a ‘Fairy.’ “Barbies’ dressed in a hyperfeminine manner with hot pink as the primary color of their outfits. Self-proclaimed “Bratz’’ preferred a Y2k style with an urban flare. “Fairy” people wore fluffy pastel clothing to look as ‘ethereal’ as possible. That particular TikTok trend stirred up feelings of nostalgia for thousands of viewers, including myself.

teenage monster in a human world — which undoubtedly comes with hardships and insecurities. Frankie quickly became my favorite character because I also had insecurities rooted in my appearance. Regardless, Frankie managed to surpass her insecurities through fashion. Looking back at it now, most of her fashion staples reference her hardships. By fixating so much on Frankie’s character, indirectly, my appreciation for fashion would be born.

dolls but failed due to the company’s choice to “revamp” the dolls. Several characters gained more of a baby-face however what put the nail

in efforts to chase a more “palatable” image. Eventually, this contributed to Monster High’s decline as I knew it — even back in 2018.

LOOK 2

A. Thrifted Jacket & Skirt

B. H&M White Purse C. ASOS Boots

Even though Monster High had an unfortunate end, the criticism that dolls resemblances the arguments of feminism present in 2010. Model Amber Rose started her annual ‘Slut Walk’ inTHEY HAVE PAVED A WAY IN FASHION THAT WILL NEVER GO AWAY.

2015. The movement hoped to rally all genders against rape culture, sexual harassment, and

the victim-blaming dialogue. It would be nearly impossible to find a ‘trendy’ outfit that was not inspired by sex workers. As much as society likes to cast these women as outcasts, Theyhave pavedawayinfashionthatwillnevergoaway.

in Monster High’s coffin (no pun intended) was how Mattel dropped the unique edge of their fashion styles. Mattel isolated a loyal fan base B

C

There are moments in your childhood that you would never expect to shape you in the individual that you are today. 2011 was the year I stumbled upon Monster High; by recommendation I watched the pilot video of Monster High’s YouTube series. The premise was so intriguing to me that it transformed me from being a casual viewer to a loyal fan. Monster High’s character development of the main cast focused on them overcoming the growing pains of being a “monster” teenager in a human-dominated society. I found the perfect bandaid to provide comfort for my wounded self-esteem. How often do children with insecurities get a variety of characters to connect and resonate with? For many, Monster High was just a toy

LOOK 3

A. Y2K Long Sleeve

B. Urban Outfitters Skirt

D. H&M Platform Boots

they played with as a kid. For those like myself, Monster High was the outlet I needed to express myself. For instance, Draculaura, a main character of the brand, is a vampire who cannot see her own reflection which makes her highly self-conscious about her appearance. She frequently touches her hair, makeup and asks those around her for reassurance. Another example, Cleo de Nile, the daughter of a Pharaoh, was raised in wealth and status. Nonetheless she faced similar teenage hardships; the controlling father disapproved of her boyfriend (due to his “commoner” status) and prevented her from embracing her truth-not her fathers’. The characters all overcome their hardships thematically through self-acceptance and friendship. Thanks to Monster High, I found myself wanting to explore fashion.

further into some of these aesthetics I could easily identify the origins of these aesthetics. So many of these styles were influenced by Black women, Latinas, and sex workers. These individuals laid the groundwork for so many fashion trends that it’s discouraging to see their impact forgotten in the rapidly moving fashion world. Even though it has been a decade since I’ve played with a Monster High doll, I owe it to them for showing the importance of self-expression. The clothes that we wear are more than fabrics covering our body—they can reveal our personalities without saying a word.

Nasra Mohamed

McKoy

Savannah Zmiesky

“Growing up right before the turn of the smart phone, as soon as my siblings and I got home from school off the bus the entire neighborhood became our playground. These pictures represent the ideas of coming of age in America, but with a nostalgic twist.“

Daniel

Amarion Surgeon

Caromis Ferrer

LIGHTS OUT

Carolin e Congr o

“These photos capture the friendships that got us throughout the school day, and the journey back home... only to come home when the streetlights turn on.“

Designed by Andrea Villamarin

“Porque las demas estan flacas. Todo se le ven bien, no traen panza. Pero a ti te crea un effecto… no es la mejor manera para ti de vesiterte.”

Because the other girls are skinny.

Coming from a mixed-race background, I often feel as if I inherited the most unattractive traits from both sides. Broad shoulders, a top-heavy body, along with wide hips, chubby arms, and a tendency to store fat in my stomach and thighs from my mom’s side of the family, somehow fair even worse on me without their golden and coffee undertones. Navigating life as a larger person, you quickly realize that you will seldom, if ever, be labeled as “feminine”,“delicate” or “prettyinaneffortless way”. Rather, more often than not, whatever you wear, say, or do, will be viewed as inherently “masculine”, “unattractive”, or laughable. When I wear baggy pants and large shirts, an homage to the early 2000’s alternative scene, the outfit comes off as “butch” and “dykish”. However, put those same clothes on a skinnier person of a smaller frame, and she becomes “cool”, “effortlessly chic”, and “grunge”.

broader, larger, or lacks “feminine proportions” leaves you with the indistinguishable message that your body, by default, is not desirable, and that by definition, is not beautiful. But just where did these ideas about what women should look like, come from? When did these perceptions begin?

According to Nigerian scholar and researcher Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí, author of The Invention of Women, the Western World treats visuality as a crucial sense valued above all others, in contrast to other Non-Western cultures: “From a Yoruba stance, the body appears to have an exaggerated presence in Western thought and social practice… One cannot place persons in the Yoruba categories just by looking at them”.

Whenever I’d be out around friends, I was always characterized as “older” and “more mature”, often against my actual observable personality, solely because of my body. I remember waiting outside on the street to get into the club, eyes staring ahead behind the excited group of men talking to my friends, all of us college juniors.

“So you must be the Mom out of them, huh?”

I shrugged. That was the first and only thing they said to me all night. I definitely hadn’t said or done anything that would’ve given that impression, but that was a typical comment people had given me for as long as I could remember. When I was 14, I was often catcalled by older men wherever I went for my curvy body. They’d claim they thought I was in my 20’s.

In a society where beauty for feminine perceived people revolves around being as small and as youthful as possible, being stuck in a body that’s

In her book FearingTheBlackBody:TheRacial OriginsofFatPhobia, Strings argues that “racial science” took off during the 18th century, at the peak of the Atlantic slave trade, effectively racializing differences between female bodies; thus codifying fatness as both “black and sinful” and thinness as “white” and “European”. Ironically, throughout the Renaissance, author Sabrina Strings notes, “Thickness had been deemed superior to thinness”. Artists of the period, such as painters Titian and Paolo Veronese, depicted their goddess and biblical figures, reflective of ideals of the time’s physical beauty, as “voluptuous, wellbuilt, and fleshy”.

Western ideals have been historically influenced by eugenics, with its racial classification systems and a foundational belief that there were “fundamental differences between Europeans and Non-Europeans, which served as proof of European superiority”. French racial scientist Denis Diderot’s Encyclopédie had a monumental role in spreading the idea that black Africans were “inherently gluttonous” by characterizing enslaved Africans in the colonies as “generally lazy, cowardly, and very fond of gluttony. Allowing people to connote black bodies as “gluttonous” encouraged the idea that black people inherently lacked “self-control”, in order to further affirm justifications of colonialism.

Later on, in the early 19th century in the United States, the stigmatizing of fatness became a dominant ideology in mainstream culture against the backdrop of mass immigration by those considered “hybrid whites” (such as the Irish, Southern Italian, and Russians) as a way of creating social distinctions between them and elite European and white Americans and underscore their inferiority. At the height of Celtic Irish immigration in 1850’s America, closely followed by mass migration from Italians, Russian Jews, Polish, and other Eastern Europeans, mainstream America feared that its “national fabric was being sullied by foreign elements”. With growing fears that the “pure” Northern European-descended Americans would intermix with the influx of “hybrid” white immigrants, often thought to be “part African”, scientific racism would re-emerge full throttle into mainstream America. Northern Europeans were “Nordic” and “superior” and Eastern/Southern Europeans as “mixed” and “inferior”; these classifications built off of Arthur de Gobineau’s theory of “Aryan Supremacy”. Popular thinkers like Francis Galton and Charles Davenport promoted the belief that “Poles, Irish and Italians” were of a completely different race altogether than that of “native white Americans”. The key difference between the “superior” Northern Europeans and “inferior” whites? Their bodies.

In his book BodyBuildandItsInheritance, Davenport illustrates the clear distinction between the slender build of the “Nordic” types and the “fatness” of southern and Eastern Europeans; “...fleshiness may be a true hereditary character is indicated by the existence of fleshy races of men. Examples are the South-Russian Jews, especially of the female sex..”. As such, Strings explains, the “superior American beauty” was a product of ‘Nordic’ or ‘Aryan heritage’ that would endow her with a small, thin figure.

So, why should we care? As Oyěwùmí eloquently puts it, “Those in power find it imperative to establish their superior biology as a way of affirming their privilege and dominance over “Others”. Those who are different are seen as inferior, and this, in turn, is used to account for their disadvantaged positions.” Whether or not we say it out loud, societal standards have all contributed to the inherent associations we make when considering other people. Who we find beautiful, who we find repulsive, and who we assume to be hard-working, lazy, likable, or unlikeable, are all often judgments we make based on simply a glance that lasts only a few seconds. We’re human, and- as Oyewumi had pointed out, especially as humans in the West, we’re visual creatures. But it’s important to remember that many of these beliefs about bodies and their perceived value in beauty aren’t rooted in intrinsic human nature but in racismandeugenics. By letting go of a system of beauty that stemmed from pitting certain groups of people as “ inferior” and “superior”, we can learn to be kinder both to ourselves, and others about our bodies.

The year is 2007. It’s mid-July, little me is hot as hell, and BET’s 106 & Park is playing in the distance. It’s calling me from out of my bedroom into the living room for an hour of the music industry’s top Black artists interviewing, performing, and on a countdown to the number one video. Being the year 2007, it only makes sense that Beyoncé is very present on the episode. “Freakum Dress”, “Ring the Alarm”, and “Get Me Bodied” from her sophomore project B’day have my sisters and I breaking a sweat to learn the perfectly polished choreography executed by the icon herself.

Flashforward to July 29th, 2022. It’s the end of July, midnight, adult me is hot as hell, and my airpods blare these simple words into my ears: “THESE MOTHAF*CKERS AIN’T STOPPING ME”. I am then pulled into an hour and two minutes of Beyoncé’s RENAISSANCE I am dancing, voguing, dipping, sweating, and arching my back to queen Bey snatching me out of everything that 2020-2021 put me through, and forcing me to release every bit of negativity lingering over my shoulder these past couple of years.

Beyoncé’s seventh studio album RENAISSANCE is an exploration of joy, sexuality, femininity, and power in the Black and Queer space. It samples, interpolates, and calls upon the dance and house music of the 70’s and 80’s club scene. The LP so wonderfully carries the weight of nostalgia. It opens today’s youth to a portal of escapism our predecessors once used to survive their circumstances.

Nostalgia is cyclical. It imitates the movement and shape of the disco ball itself, turning us towards the music that has healed us before, meanwhile reflecting only the present beneath it.

What is filling the sound waves you might ask?

The re-emergence of Dance and House Music in a culture waiting to latch on to a glimmer of hope and light.

House music began in the late 70’s found at the intersection of voices dying to be heard: The Women’s Movement, Queer Rights Movement, and the Black Power Movement. These voices found their safe space in 1977 in the opening of “The Warehouse’’ by owner Robert Wiliams in Chicago, Illinois. A space that would shift musical history forever.

At its core, The Warehouse operated as a private gay club from midnight until 8 am. Williams lacked a DJ so he would head to New York to ask Larry Levan who would decline, but his mentee Frankie Knuckles would fall in love with the job offer. In Williams’ backyard, disco was dying physically and culturally . “DISCO SINGLE” was placed upon every vinyl cover for a disco record regardless of how good the record was or not. For music connoisseurs in both liberal, gay America and in conservative America, this left a bad taste in people’s mouths. However, as commonly known, only one of these communities acted upon their distaste. “Disco Demolition Night” was used as a promotion for the Chicago White Sox vs Detroit Tigers. What started as a twisted attraction of blowing up a box of disco records resulted in a mass riot, and a storming onto the field of “Anti Disco” fans. Leading the pack were followers of Steve Dahl, a well-known radio host fired after his station transitioned from rock to disco music. The American truth behind this event is found in the account of Black workers of the stadium that

night, who have gone on to reveal that most of the records destroyed and burned were not just disco records, but simply black records. The message: if you are Black or gay, then you are not one of us. This forced these communities underground. Therefore, now even further underground, The Warehouse began to make a shift, with soon to be famous names being birthed under its wing. The legendary Frankie Knuckles was the master of the records. House icons of today, then in their teen years, would attend. Jesse Saunders would sneak in as a teenager, Honey Dijon would find her place of refuge and safety as homophobia and sexism was strictly forbidden, and the famous Richard Long would design the sound system making one truly experience the music.

The music in question?

The true invention of House itself.

So girls and gays, quick music lesson: According to DJ Nicky Siano, some of the records (often unheard in America, so Frankie would have that exclusive! Okay?!) would be too short, so Frankie would play around with the records. “He would have 2 copies [of the records] and make them longer and also like play the breakdown twice and play the best part a couple of times and skip the sh*tty parts.” This combination along with his famous train sound effect getting louder and louder from the distance results in, what Siano states,

“He didn’t just mix a couple of records, he brought in a whole new style of music.”

“It is found at the intersection of voices dying to be heard.”

So what does that new style look like almost 4 decades later? Dawn Richard threw her New Orleans swag all over “Bussifame”. “Iced Tea” by Joyce Wrice produced by KAYTRANADA eased us into summer, and “BREAK MY SOUL” brought my uncles back to a time where they could buy a cheap drink and dance up on my aunts. Our favorite loverboy Drake is always on the scene with his perfectly cut heart in his hair, and a beard the strongest of men would fall to their knees for. Drake has contributed to the re-emergence of house and dance music. No, it’s true. Outside of penning the phenomenal “HEATED” on RENAISSANCE, as a surprise release on the day Beyoncé announced her upcoming album (*side eye*) Drake too releases his own house inspired album Honestly, Nevermind. Honestly, Nevermind produces a couple of records that had us two stepping like Drake (someone cue the “Hotline Bling” music video). Is this his strongest effort? That is up to the consumer. However, “Sticky” makes for a great song to drive to in the city late at night with your crush in the driver’s seat.

Personally, I thoroughly enjoy this new wave of rap on house-inspired beats. Doechii’s “Persuasive” ends with her emceeing “How does it feel to be that bitch?” and that gets me strutting through town on a Saturday morning. I mean, can you not hear Doja Cat animatedly rapping over a house beat in a location from Planet Her and Planet Her only? Leaving us with queen Bey rapping effortlessly on the RENAISSANCE album. “Broken glass in the disco, sex on the brain, Watch my reflection, F**K out my face!” Beyoncé sings on the Grace Jones (!!!) and Tems featured track, “MOVE”. We are moving in slow motion, people. My feathered coat is on, the wind is blowing in my hair, and my bedazzled boots’ only competition is the disco ball. My temperature has been checked, and my mask is off. Beyoncé provided a 16-track Black and Queer guideline to releasing the weight of the lingering pandemic, inflation, gun violence, and political hell all right outside our front doors. So what do we do now Bey? “All my pretty boys to the floor!” she responds on “PURE/HONEY,” a gay–very gay–musical heaven that morphs into her very own Prince moment. Yes, you read that correctly. Now run to go listen to it.

He broughtanew style of music

"

. "

Beyoncé is a synonym for greatness. Period. She took this collection of songs and elevated it even higher with a voice sample of TS Madison exclaiming “Bitch! I’m Black!” while having Honey Dijon on the production credits of the very same track. That combination alone landed the two as the first Black trans women in the top 40 of the Billboard Hot 100 for the first time in history. What a feat! Everything the light touches is Beyoncé’s kingdom (note the Lion King reference) Only a being with as much power as she has can lend a hand in pulling my community over another hill we have had to climb. However, with such a vast territory comes pushback and a specific side of Twitter scouting high and low to find an area of “weakness”. What they came up with this time, however, displays that they missed the mark completely. RENAISSANCE concludes its production credits with an astounding 104 songwriting credits. As if the argument carries any form of weight, for quite some time now Beyoncé has faced the “she doesn’t write her own music” criticism from the general public. Despite being the first Black woman to win ASCAP’s Songwriter of the Year Award, she continues to face this scrutiny. Chart-topping (an impressive nine times for the Billboard Hot 100) songwriter Diane Warren caused some buzz amongst the Beyhive when she oh so slightly questioned, “How can there be 24 writers on a song?” (Twitter) followed by an eye roll emoji in reference to the third track on RENAISSANCE, “ALIEN SUPERSTAR”.

If one knows anything about the Beyhive, we—I mean they—do not tolerate any form of Beyoncé shade. But a leading general amongst the Hive replied to her and his word cut the discourse immediately. Chart-topping singer, songwriter, and producer Terius Nash, famously known as “The-Dream” produced and wrote on 15 out of the 16 tracks on the album. Yeah, he is well prepared for this argument. He replies to Diane, “You mean how does our (Black) culture have so many writers, well it started because we couldn’t afford certain things starting out, so we started sampling and it became an Artform, a major part of the Black Culture (hip hop) in America. Had that era not happen who knows. U good?” (Twitter) See, the reason why this album means so much is because Beyoncé literally invited the girls and the gays who understand it into Club Renaissance.. For those culturally

aware, it is obvious that this is a club and dance record that the DJ just has to press play on and allow her to carry us through the night. The samples, remixes, the emceeing (catch the end of track 11’s ‘HEATED”—she goes off!!), and interpolations of the hits of the 70’s and 80’s before it, are all built in for the club experience. She is offering us this gift on a silver platter, also known as streaming services, to experience from the comfort of our homes. Did I mention that the pandemic was still lingering? At this stage in Beyoncé’s career naming her album

RENAISSANCE is much more than a re-birth stemming from a plague—sound familiar? It is a rebirth of her career, her art, and her life. Her previous and critically acclaimed LP, Lemonade, was heavy and left nothing off the table of what it means to confront pain deep within you and the relationships around you. She picked herself up, did the work, entered her 40’s, and is never afraid to take a risk and change who we know her to “Bey”

RENAISSANCE leads the pack in the 70’s and 80’s house soundscape that is influencing so many of the chart topping hits of today. This is a great representation of a specific time period of music coming full circle and making its way back to what our ears are listening to now. My family members are transported back to a time when they danced so hard in the club their fresh perm was snatched by the sweat of the night. My gay elders instantly remember what it was like to vogue the house down to escape the judgmental world around them and honor the fallen angels to AIDS. All coming full circle to now where I, an openly gay young Black man, is moving forward with this history lesson, and am introduced to an entire world of music that has helped heal my predecessors and is the wind beneath my wings as I enter my own personal re-birth in my 20’s. The future of feel-good music looks bright and the only thing left on the dance floor as the sun rises is one question: Mrs. Giselle Knowles-Carter, where are the visuals to match this heavenly experience?

I want them on my desk by Monday.

boys an analysis of toxic masculinity

men 2

written by: Quinn Ratti designed by: Andrea Villamarin

No man is an island. People in a society are going to be connected by shared culture, religion, social norms, and to a certain extent, identity. The question of what masculinity is has always been something in the public consciousness. However, the history of masculinity is much more nuanced than one may think. It is a concept that goes beyond the popular idea of a man being someone of a muscular build, enjoys sports, and is athletic, ambitious, and stoic. This idea, one that I have dubbed “heavymasculinity,” began to emerge around the 1910s when World War I began. The conflict was on an unprecedented scale, and what soldiers saw on that battlefield was something they would take home with them if they survived. But those returning from the war were forever changed by “shell shock,” or what would later be known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder(PTSD). With few avenues or outlets for their symptoms, many men were broken by isolationism, sometimes resulting in them being institutionalized. Some began down the dark road of addiction for some form of relief, but most commonly they suffered in silence and refused to ask for help because it would show weakness. This phenomenon kickstarted the idea of “heavy masculinity,” or the hypermasculine male stereotype we see today.

Heavy masculinity is often seen in controversial internet personalities such as Andrew Tate, who grew an immense following amongst younger men. They often espouse ideas that are incredibly sexist and demeaning towards women, in addition to being incredibly damaging for them mentally. Tate talks about how a man shouldn’t be showing their emotions, how displaying such things is weakness, and keeping oneself closed off is the sign of a true man, even with him not believing in depression “So people defend depression. They get angry when I say this. Because they need this bulls**t to justify their failures. By admitting I’m right, they need

to work hard to make themselves happy. To avoid the work—argue with me and pretend depression is a thing”. Discussing Tate in the modern day is a bit contentious as Tate, 35, is accused of human trafficking, and domestic abuse, and has even been caught on video beating his ex-girlfriend with a belt as was seen in the Guardian publication. Furthermore, he is infamous for saying “By extension, if I have responsibility over her, then I must have a degree of authority.” and “reading is for losers and that you are just taking someone else’s views which are weak”. His disdain for reading perpetrates another form of control while emasculating the idea of learning to his viewers. Tate’s views that depression isn’t real is quite common amongst those that are really in the heavily masculine scene, the classic “pull yourself by your bootstraps” mentality that we have predominantly seen in men after the World Wars. The second quote falls along the same lines as the first, it’s steeped in the 40s and 50s. Tate wants his fans to close themselves off from other influences, allowing his ideal to become more widely accepted. Furthermore, it isolates his fans from other sources of insight, allowing him to metaphorically conquer ‘weaker’ or ‘follower’ men that spread his ideals without any sort of intellectual challenge. Despite Tate’s best efforts, there is another movement that gained traction in the last 50 years and has been steadily gaining popularity.

The 60s and 70s came along and changed a lot of things. The hippie movement came to be a counter-cultural response to the draft, the war in Vietnam, and the people who supported it. Hippies tried to be everything the war in Vietnam wasn’t. At the core of these beliefs are harmony, communication, and kindness. The basic ideas of peace and love resonated with people in opposition to the war. Many people would often join the hippie movement as early as their teens or as late as their 40s, popularizing

No man is an island.

No man is an island. No man is an island.

No man is an island.

...

a form of mainstream emotional vulnerability. Girls were encouraged to be more outgoing and outspoken, while boys were allowed to express themselves, allowing them to be more vulnerable. This resulted in people becoming more open with their emotions and interests, using what I call “light masculinity.” Some modern celebrity examples include Donald Glover, Lil Nas-X, Pete Davidson, etc. The best example of light masculinity (in my opinion) in a celebrity is Tom Holland. His portrayal of Spider-Man as opposed to his predecessors is more emotional and almost childlike; while he matures as the story continues, he still retains that sense of softness to him. Meanwhile, Tobey Maguire’s Peter Parker was reserved and shy but overall felt like an adult playing a teenager. Andrew Garfield

on the other hand was a lot more youthful in his performance but felt like he was always acting like Spider-Man. Despite Tom Holland being recently typecast as a stereotypical action hero, his public persona is still very much like his Peter Parker a down-to-earth kid with a kind heart. He is very much a product of his time, which allows him to do things that would be unheard of even 10 years ago. Tom Holland’s performance on the show Lip Sync Battle of Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” went viral while dressing in women’s clothing. It went viral not only because of what the dance was but because of how well Holland pulled it off. Since he was young he was involved in pursuits that are considered feminine, with the main one being ballet. His confidence in his masculinity allowed him to take part in such activities that helped him show such an impressive performance, something I imagine someone deeply entrenched in heavy masculinity would struggle to even attempt.

These ideas continue in a cycle, with one ideal reaching prominence for a decade or two before being pulled back under by the other. The 60s and 70s were times of light masculinity being highlighted, the 80s acted as a response

to the previous two decades, then came the 90s, 2000s, and so on. It was only recently that I thought about this cycle. I tried not to pay too much mind to these sorts of concepts. Masculinity was just the stereotypes to me, athleticism, aggressiveness, a desire to control, ambition, all that stuff. I didn’t think about it much because these were the things I never really had.

Throughout my own life, I haven’t exactly been the quintessential male from day one despite my name. I cried a lot as a child, talked to animals in funny voices, and wouldn’t hesitate to tell someone how I felt. As I grew older, I knew who I was, despite all of this unmanly behavior I was 100% sure I was at the very least male. I am a straight man but I wear my heart on my sleeve and I wouldn’t change that for the world. A lot of it has to do with my upbringing. My father died when I was about 6 or 7, and it destroyed me as a person. It would take about 10 years before I could start living again. As I grew up most of my life without a father, I didn’t have much of a masculine influence in my life. Both my siblings were older sisters, and any other relatives were either living too far away or were people I would never want to speak with again. So I always felt like I was ‘halfcomplete’ or ‘not a real man.’ The closest thing to a masculine influence was my mother ironically enough. She was a single parent of three kids in a house that was falling apart with copious amounts of land that seemingly couldn’t be handled by a single person. But she did it. She couldn’t go back to work because we lived in a small rural community in the middle of nowhere, and she couldn’t leave us for hours on end as we were all so young. The life insurance we gained certainly helped, but to make due my mom had to raise sheep because our land was ‘farmland accessed,’ and if we raised some sort of farm animal seasonally we would be able to make ends meet. My mom, a city girl from New York, raised those sheep and took

world.

I wear my heart on my sleeveandIwouldn’tchangethat for the world.

... I wear my heart on my sleeveandIwouldn’tchangethat for the world.

... I wear my heart on my sleeveandIwouldn’tchangethat for the

them to the butcher every summer so we could afford to stay in our home. She would go out on a tractor two times bigger than her and plow the fields, mow the giant lawn we had, cut up firewood because we had no functional heating system but only two wood-burning stoves, and somehow still have the energy and time to raise her children. Words cannot describe how much I look up to my mother. She somehow fulfilled both parental roles amazingly and I always aspired to be like her, but I wanted to be something different. I didn’t exactly know what, but I knew I had to change somehow.

Then I met some of my father’s old friends. One, in particular, Lisa, had a lot to say about him. She would regale me with stories of him in high school or college, and a lot of it sounded familiar. The man who I saw as the only real ‘masculine’ influence in my life was just like me. He was a wrestler but also in a band—playing the clarinet of all instruments. He was goofy, made a lot of jokes, and took great care of those around him, even talking to his pets in funny voices to raise their spirits. The thing that hit me hard for me was when my dad’s friends would say to me “You are just like your father.”

Me? Being anything like him? How? I was just this little crybaby who couldn’t handle even the smallest of situations. What could make me like the father who, while dying, kept a smile on his face so his children would have good memories of him? But there I was, cracking jokes like him, smiling like him, acting almost to a tee just like him. I thought more about what it meant to be a man when it hit me. As a child, I understood that what

my mom did around the house or as a hobby didn’t make her any less feminine. She was still a woman through and through no matter how many sheds she built or how many tools she used, it didn’t change her identity, if anything it reinforced it. Ifthatworkedforwomen,whynotfor men? This idea shattered my preconceptions of what it meant to be a man. The stereotypical man is just that—a stereotype. At that moment, I understood that I was as masculine as I needed to be. At that moment I was able to break that painful cycle of the enigmatic identity, and finally, I knew who I was.

The problem with the idea of masculinity is that there truly is no masculine ideal, and trying to make or fit into one is counterproductive to one’s personal growth. What is a man? In Italian culture, a man is a passionate person who is devoted to their family, someone who can cry in public and not feel like any less of a man. In England, a man is someone who can keep a stiff upper lip despite what goes on around them. In Ethiopia, a man is someone brave, and financially stable, yet somber. So which one is right? Is no one, right? Many times the one we feel is right is the ideas we have been surrounded by or grew up with. However, because of the diversity of human culture, trying to pigeonhole half the world’s population into an idea that changes depending on geography or period is incredibly harmful and limiting. While I may find heavy masculinity stifling, trying to fit people into light masculinity may stifle others similarly.

The question of masculinity isn’t a multiple choice. It’s a fill-in-the-blank.

It’s a fill-in-the-blank.

The question of masculinity isn’t a multiple choice.

“The early 2000s were a time when society began that trek and capturing that feeling of choice, yet uneasiness was the primary goal. Through an AI-powered takeover of jobs and as a cautionary tale of what society could have been if we did not make conscious choices to preserve our future, the feeling of nostalgia erupts from the “Construct,”

PHOTOGRAPHED BY: MANAV MAJUMDAR

MODELED BY: ANGEL DOO VICTORIA ST. JOHN DESIGNED BY: CHRISTA WICKMAN

mirrored in the Matrix movie series, a foundational part of the early 2000s. During this shoot, I tried to recreate projected code on faces and maintained references through glasses and style to the Matrix series, leading to the name Nostalgia Reloaded.”

- MANAV MAJUMDAR

R e l o

N O S T A L G I A

N O S T A L G I A R e l o a d e d

Why We Take Photos Why We Take Photos

Written and Photographed by Claire Hambrick Designed by Aily Valencia Cervantes

Aphotograph tells as much about the person behind the camera as it does about who’s in front — if you pay attention. I’ve long found photography to be the one expression of any creative pursuit that resonates with me more than anything else. And I’ve tried a lot — writing, acting, music, painting, etc, but nothing gives me the agency that photography does. It’s empowering to capture images you deem worthy of being remembered and shared. If all art is a matter of connecting, photography allows me to share with others my experience and perception of the people and world around me. My love for sharing images and constructing life into a visible, tangible item is why Midas Magazine exists at all. The physical nature of film and print photos, which in most contexts have become extinct out of our desire for digital postable photos, lets us document the present to give the future a past to hold on to.

Besides, what’s more nostalgic than a photograph? Old photos of the past let us bridge gaps of time and distance. It’s proof that a world beyond the current one existed, that the names in your family tree aren’t just ghosts but were real people; whether it’s the person in the frame or merely the fact that the person behind the camera decided this moment in time was worth preserving, unknowingly giving us something to hold on to and form theories about decades later. It’s the same reason I find so much joy in witnessing more and more people my age take film photos.

The return to analog photography in younger generations is nothing new, though it is pretty illogical. It’s slow, expensive, easy to mess up, and unforgiving. Our phone cameras allow us to take unlimited, high-quality photos in the blink of an eye. And, yet, something about film photography persists. We see it in the trend of disposable cameras popping up more

in high schools, college parties, and celebrity Instagrams, as well as in mainstream media, with HBO’s Euphoria shooting its culture-shifting season two entirely on Kodak Ektachrome film. There’s something delightfully nostalgic about the medium that makes it worthy of our time and money even if it is antithetical to our normal expectation of ease and immediacy. If anything, the ritual of converting an image to a negative, editing, enlarging, fixing grain, cropping, uploading, or printing, is the very thing that makes it so special and resilient

If we think about shooting film as a way to document the future’s history, it makes it even more important to value the perspective of the photographer. One of my favorite quotes on this subject is by the late photo curator, John Szarkowski, who said, “one could compare the art of photography with the act of pointing.” Photography is a matter of turning our attention to something. It can be an act of love or an act of rebellion by fighting against our societal understanding of who has the power and authority to tell stories. One of the easiest ways to understand a culture at any given place or time is by looking at its media, TV, and movies. Since these mediums typically require lots of money and access, anyone without those forms of power is often excluded from having their truth told authentically. Recording your history is crucial so that no one else can speak for you or over you.

This semester, I met a new photographer who uses film to document her culture and community. I asked Wendy Hernandez Lopez to work on a photoshoot for Midas to accompany Jasmine Palacios’ written piece at the beginning of this issue. During the process, I got to know Wendy and her inspirations. We sat down for a conversation before the shoot to talk about photography, nostalgia, and the importance of documenting your history.

‘‘

Claire Hambrick: Why did you get into photography?

Wendy Hernandez Lopez: I’ve always had a weird interest in film ever since I was a younger girl and I think that’s because of my grandfather. My grandfather worked for a big TV studio in Mexico City. He was always in the background of major things. In Mexico, everyone knows El Chavo del Ocho. That was such a cool thing to me, that my grandfather was the guy who filmed these episodes. He wasn’t the one acting but he made history with a camera. I’ve always been a visual person; even when

WHL: The process is so exciting! You don’t get to see the pictures you’ve taken. Right now in this generation, myself included, we’re used to having everything in our hands in the moment, in the blink of an eye. You learn patience with film photography because you don’t have that luxury. It just makes it so much more fun. It’s kind of like a little mystery; are you going to get the perfect picture or not? And you may have something in mind. Like right now, I’m envisioning this photoshoot going smoothly. I have a mood board, and I have inspiration, but there’s always that chance that it’s not going to turn out anything like

Until Next Time...

midas.mag midas.magazine midas magazine CONNECT WITH US

Midas Magazine was formed in 2020 to be a platform for Charlotte students to share their authentic voices. We are entirely student run and focus on four main pillars: culture, identity, artistry, and lifestyle.

Additional content can be found on our website: midasmagazine.com

Midas Magazine is within Student Niner Media. Be sure to check out the other departments— Nova Literary Arts Magazine, Niner Times, Uptown Audio, and Marketing. Follow @UNCCMEDIA to see what’s new with Niner Media.